Category: Books

I read three other books between the day I began Sophie’s Choice and when I completed it. It was among the strangest books I’ve read: it had moments of pure drudgery, of self-indulgence, of compelling storytelling, of discomfort, of confusion, of literary triumph. When I reached the moment of the titular choice, all my struggles through the purple prose and plodding details felt worthwhile. But at that moment of completion, I had no words to describe my experience. Only a few months later did my feelings, and this post’s title, coalesce.

William Styron’s style in Sophie’s Choice is so over the top that, if considered as satire, it could be a true comedic masterpiece. The book reads as a fantasy version of Styron’s own youth: a self-absorbed aspiring writer in New York meets a beautiful Polish Catholic who spent time in a concentration camp during World War II, along with her bipolar, drug-addled boyfriend. Various tales of drinking, sexual fantasy, and flashbacks from characters other than our sole narrator are described in impossible detail.

The book is a beautiful slog. It’s the written version of a show recommended by a friend, with the caveat that after the first two seasons, it gets really good. It’s a writer throwing the dictionary and thesaurus and hypothetical notes from decades of therapy he never attended, empowered by the immense security provided to a middle-aged white man working on a novel in the 1980s. It’s fascinating and frustrating in the ideas it seems to put forth, its explicit detail, its erudite and overdone diction, and the surprising success of the overall story despite everything that could inspire a frustrated reader to put down the book and never return.

Sophie’s Choice is a book worth reading and studying both for its content and for its context. It’s the work of a writer who appears to write with intention, yet that intention is crafting their ideal opus to win an award rather than to say something from within.

I still don’t know whether I recommend this book, but it sure is one I’d love to take a class about, or listen to a panel of authors with a variety of backgrounds discuss it. I’ve since moved on to my usual stack of science fiction, but Sophie’s Choice was a worthwhile challenge that will stick with me.

Jane Austen was a notable gap in my reading knowledge that I finally filled in the past month. Erin got me a Barnes and Noble collection of her works for Christmas, and so far, I’ve read Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice.¹The book has seven novels and is huge. I got both of these as ebooks from the library. Once I picked up on Austen’s voice and tone—a few pages into Sense and Sensibility, I had to search “Is Jane Austen satirical?”—I was sold. I adore Austen’s sass and snark and social satire. These two books are self-aware romance novels that are still relevant today, particularly Pride and Prejudice.

• 1
  The book has seven novels and is huge. I got both of these as ebooks from the library.

Earlier this year I read the Slough House series by Mick Herron, prompted by rave reviews of its TV adaptation on Apple TV+ and my unwillingness to dive into such an adaptation until I read the associated books.

In short, I adore this series.

I’ve always jived with wry British humor that somehow mixes a superiority complex with a dismal outlook, all while providing cutting insights into the absurdity of life which are provided via a superb command of the English language, turning phrases that I could not have conceived of. Mick Herron hits all of this precisely right with his set of outcast characters, each with glaring personality flaws that range from endearing to horrific.

These books are hugely entertaining. I read all eight available books this spring. They have the enjoyable, exciting elements of a spy thriller coupled with tremendous dark comedic elements. If you can accept that objectional characters can still be enjoyed and rooted for, then you’ve made it over the first hurdle.

The first book in the series is Slow Horses, which is the namesake for the TV show that I’ve yet to begin. Read the first two chapters of the book and you’ll know whether it’s for you.

While looking for a new book to read from the library on the Libby app, the name Octavia E. Butler popped into my head. I don’t know when she first came into my awareness, but I searched her name and there was Parable of the Sower. Its various blurbs mentioned it alongside 1984 and Brave New World. I love alternative and dystopian fiction, so I was immediately sold.

After completing Parable of the Sower and its sequel, Parable of the Talents, I’m convinced that these are the most relevant pieces of dystopian fiction for the modern world precisely because they are not hyperbolic science fiction that acts as a metaphorical warning. Instead, their story is a grounded and horrific extrapolation of economic stratification mixed with modern democratic fascism.

Two elements keep these books close to modern reality in a way that would be considered cliche or overdone were they not written in the 1990s. First, they are set in California in the late 2020s and early 2030s, so the timeline immediately makes one think, “How does this apply to my life?” There are no extreme science fiction elements; computers are mentioned, but only in ways that still feel relevant. A professor runs classes online, and kids can look up information. There are jokes about push-button home phones. It is shockingly restrained and prescient in this way, which gives the impression that it’s an alternative history book written a couple of years ago. Second, the presidential candidate who (spoiler) gets elected runs the Church of Christian America and speaks in ways that imply action among its followers but he can never be accused of specifically inciting violence. One of his campaign slogans was indeed, “Make America Great Again”. A 2017 New Yorker article emphasizes this point in particular.

These books are profound, and their subject matter is serious. Though not needlessly graphic, they include many triggering events one would imagine in a dystopian novel: disease, death, slavery, and rape. Religion and zealotry are two key themes, and these books can be viewed as a beautiful and thoughtful study into how one can justify one’s religious beliefs in a world gone mad. That would have been my main takeaway if I had read these in high school. Instead, I read them a few months before a critical election, and my impression changed; I want more people to read these books, particularly Talents, which is written so that one can fully understand the story without reading Sower.

Give them a shot. It’s heavy material but written as a series of journal entries, which makes it feel more approachable. I found them impactful, meaningful, and worth sharing.

I just finished Frankenstein, which I last read during my British Literature class in high school. It reminded me of the phenomenon of Disney retelling an old story with key details removed and altered to make it kid-friendly,¹This most recently came up when running trivia for some friends a couple months ago, when I learned the original written version of Pinocchio ends with the puppet being hanged on a tree. though in Frankenstein this happens in reverse.

Every representation of the monster²Indeed, we all know Frankenstein is the name of the scientist, and he creates an unnamed monster. in popular media that I’m aware of is a green, slow-moving, large man, often with bolts in his neck. In reality, the book shows a monster who learns much about the world by observing a small family in a cottage, eventually becoming literate and quite eloquent. He also possesses superhuman speed, strength, and stamina while requiring only a limited vegetarian diet. It’s a fascinating tale that explores the concept of sin, revenge, and responsibility; most of that is lost in the classic “monster movie”.

I fondly recall the surprise I had at this in high school, and rediscovered a similar enthusiasm reading it a decade later. I wholly recommend Frankenstein to anyone who is willing to wade through flowery British prose from the 1800s.

• 1
  This most recently came up when running trivia for some friends a couple months ago, when I learned the original written version of Pinocchio ends with the puppet being hanged on a tree.
• 2
  Indeed, we all know Frankenstein is the name of the scientist, and he creates an unnamed monster.